


the taste of the sea

by caravaggiosbrushes



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Frottage, Gay, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, JOPLITTLE WEDDING, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Skinny Dipping, Slash, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Wet & Messy, back with my fitzierconte bullshit, but very consensual, having sex in the mediterranean sea as if they were in Mamma Mia!, listen don't judge me, there three make me take questionable choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 17:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravaggiosbrushes/pseuds/caravaggiosbrushes
Summary: “He looks at you the same way you look at him,” Henry says, stepping closer. Francis doesn’t move back. "The same way I look at you.”-fitziercontemodern AU written for tumblr prompt "we should skinny dip" and Bingo prompt “skinny dipping”
Relationships: Francis Crozier/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte, James Fitzjames/Henry T. D. Le Vesconte
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26
Collections: The Terror Bingo, The Terror Bingo (2020)





	the taste of the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlboxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlboxes/gifts).



> Hello! [ owlboxes ](https://owlboxes.tumblr.com/) asked for prompt " _we should skinny dip_ " for **fitzierconte** , from [ this list ](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com/post/636206929657643008) , so here we go :-)
> 
> Also using this for [ my Bingo prompt ](https://i.ibb.co/NVSMN0G/Ew-H4-IX5-WYAIJfow.png) “ ** _skinny dipping_** ” (BINGO!)
> 
> Enjoy ♥

The last thing Francis was expecting from the night was having to literally carry two drunk men back to their hotel rooms, after the wedding party. 

And not just two random men, of course not, but Fitzjames and Le Vesconte, because apparently Francis can’t have a minute of peace.

He’s trying to make all three of them walk in a straight line, but with how much the two men keep swaying and slipping away from him, and the sand being unsteady under his feet, it’s turning out to be a harder job than what he initially thought. It’s been a great night and a very nice wedding, Francis even shed a tear -or two,- at the ceremony, but now he would like to make it to their hotel, make sure these two are safe and sound in their rooms and collapse in his own bed in peace.

“Oh! You know what we should do?” Henry asks, slurring his words for how drunk he is, “We should skinny dip!”

Francis chokes on air.

“This is the _best_ idea you’ve ever had.” James loudly agrees, looking at his friend with a twinkle in his eyes, darker under the moonlight. God, he’s even more gorgeous than usual in his emerald suit and shiny black boots, which he’s waving around like a flag or something. It feels almost too intimate to see him like this, bared-feeted in the sand and red-cheekeded because of all the wine he had. He looks younger, closer to his twenties than his late thirties, somehow untouched by the sickness of the world, like something pure, from a different world entirely. 

“Don’t forget when I proposed we’d challenge each other in deepthroating those popsicles and you almost choked on yours,” Henry says, and has to stop walking ( _again_ ) for how hard he’s giggling, making James burst out a laugh as well.

(Francis’ mind has stopped at “deepthroating”.)

“Choked by a popsicle, not even a dick. Shameful!” James cries out, right here, in the middle of the bloody beach. Thank God it’s pretty late and there’s no one around.

Meanwhile, Francis is sweating his ass off because of the hot summer weather and the effort of making them follow him, but mostly because _what the hell_ , he can’t just listen to Henry Le Vesconte and James Fitzjames, the hottest colleagues he’s ever had and will ever have, talking about _deepthroating things._ Things that are not Francis’ cock.

There’s a limit to everything.

“Keep quiet or I swear to God I’ll drown you both in the sea,” he points a threatening finger at them, “if you don’t trip and fall in the water on your own anyway.”

“See?” Henry exclaims, eyes bright, “Skinny dipping, as I said!”

He’s already throwing his suit jacket away (right there in the _sand_ ) and undoing his shirt (oh fuck, oh _shit_ ) while Francis tries to make them rethink it, but James is following Henry along, kicking his pants away and promptly tripping in the sand, ending on his hand and knees, a picture that will be burnt in Francis’ memory forever.

“Francis, come on,” Henry urges him, attacking his shirt once he’s free from his own, “Just a quick dip,” he gets dangerously close and says: “You’re not gonna regret this, I promise.”

“No fucking way.” Francis is trying to push his clever (even when drunk, what the fuck) fingers away, when he hears a splash in the water. Both he and Henry turn to the sound.

James’ head appears from the placid, reflecting surface of the midnight sea, just a few feets away from them. He looks like a siren, pale skin almost white under the moonlight, hair pitch black falling in rivulets on his shoulders, like spilled ink. The fact that he’s spluttering water and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to avoid the salty water, only makes him more real and irresistible.

His clothes lie in a scattered trail on the shore, leading to him. _All_ of his clothes.

Francis is fucked. He can distinctively feel his cock filling up in his pants, _here_ , on a Mediterranean beach, after Jopson and Edward’s wedding. He’s probably the only sober person in half a mile and his two hottest coworkers are either going to drown in the sea or snog each other to death while Francis can just watch them and suffer in silence like the idiot that he is, hopelessly crushing over not one but _two_ of the most handsome and unreachable men he’s ever seen, who are probably fuckbuddies or something anyway. 

His life is a joke.

“Christ, I can’t take my eyes off you two for even one second, can I?” He bursts out, meaning that they’re like kids, leave them alone for one moment and they blow everything up, but Henry answers in a dreamy sigh, his gaze on James, who’s happily floating in the water now. Naked.

“Yeah, I can’t stop looking at him either.” He sighs. Then, he moves his attention on Francis and whispers, smooth as velvet, “Come with me.”

“Henry, drop it—”

“I mean it.” He says, his gaze steady even if he’s swaying a little. 

“You’re drunk.” Francis remarks, hoping to close the discussion once and for all, “just go to him, do whatever the hell you want, but let me go.”

Henry grabs both of his wrists. It shouldn’t make his breath hitch in his throat.

And yet.

“The last thing I want is to let you go,” Henry says, slowly, “and James.”

He can’t mean it. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“You don’t mean it.”

Henry’s gaze becomes serious at once.

“Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t mean, Francis.” He hisses, “I might have drank too much, but I know what I want. _Who_ I want.”

It feels like the truth. Francis wants for it to be the truth, please, just this time, let him have it. Let him have them.

“What about James?” He tentatively asks, feeling his self-control slip away. God, he’s wanted this for how many years, now? Three? Four? He couldn’t even tell, it feels like he’s always wanted it, as if he was born with this insatiable hunger for Henry and James rooted deeply inside of him.

Henry is still holding his wrists. He arches a disbelieving eyebrow at him, “You haven't noticed how he looks at you?”

“I…” What does this _mean_ , “No?”

Henry huffs a laugh, but it’s not mocking: it's genuine affection, the same he would reserve for James.

“He looks at you the same way you look at him,” Henry says, stepping closer. Francis doesn’t move back. "The same way I look at you.”

Francis shakes his head, placing his hands on Henry’s chest, who leans into him. His warm breath tickles Francis’ nose. For one perfect instant, none of them move and there is just the soothing noise of the waves crashing on the shore.

“I hope I’m not going to regret this.” Francis says in the end, and the way Henry looks at him tells him he could never regret this.

Fuck it. People do crazy shit at weddings all the time anyway, right? He can do this. It’s definitely not his wisest decision, but it’s one of the most honest he’s ever taken.

He tugs his shirt out of his pants, undoing the buttons with slightly trembling hands. Henry is there to help him at once, encouraging him with urgen whispers: “Yes, yes, fuck, _yes_ , come with me.”

They both discard their remaining clothes quickly, and God, Henry is half hard and he’s more than Francis has ever dared to imagine. He doesn’t even find the words, can barely mutter a “Beautiful,” that makes Henry smile brightly and whisper, “Let me kiss you, now.”

They shouldn’t be doing this here, Francis is well aware that anyone could come by the beach and see two naked men aggressively making out on the edge of the water, but he just _can’t_ stop, not with how Henry is groping his ass and moaning in appreciation as he mindlessly rocks against him, his cock hardening quickly.

“Get in the water.” Francis whispers on his lips.

“Only if you come with me.” Henry says, “And _on_ me.”

Francis groans and pushes him toward the sea, where James has stopped swimming and is staring at them with obvious desire, eyes wide with surprise. Francis has never seen him unguarded like this, every emotion plainly written on his handsome face.

He feels pulled toward him, and lets himself be pulled. 

The water is chilly but not cold, it feels like a pleasant caress on his heated skin.

“Francis.” James whispers once they’re close. He’s mindlessly moving his hands on the surface of the water, that goes up to his chest. His nipples are hard and peaked, the drops of water like diamonds on his neck and chest.

Francis kisses James gently but surely, meaning it. James makes a soft sound in his mouth and desperately grasps at his arms, holding onto him, as if he’d fall apart without him.

“You taste like the sea.” Francis whispers on his lips, leaving kisses on the side of his neck.

“Touch me,” James breathes, sounding desperate and almost scared that Francis could leave, “Please touch me, I’ve wanted you for so long, please—”

He stops pleading only because Henry takes his mouth in a bruising kiss, their soft moans filling Francis’ ears and the entire world, James’ fingers twisting desperately in his hair.

Francis is getting too hard in too little time, he’s not even sure it’s healthy for a man his age, but fuck health when James Fitzjames is whimpering in his arms and Henry Le Vesconte is embracing him from behind, grinding his erection against his hip.

James kisses Henry and then him and back again, as if he couldn’t possibly get enough of either of them, his chest rising heavily at every breath.

God, they’re both so warm around him, James still clutching at him as if afraid he might leave, his hips doing little jerky movements every time Francis teases his nipples or sucks a bruise on his neck; Henry is splayed against his back, grinding his cock in the crease of Francis’ arse, panting softly in his ears.

When Francis palms James’ ass and brushes a finger over his opening, James pushes a hand over his own mouth, his eyes unfocused. 

“You’d like this?” Francis whispers in his hair, “Would you let me do it?”

James nods frantically and moves his hand away from his mouth just to bite down on Henry's shoulder with a moan.

“Fuck.” Henry swears in a pant, his movements faltering. He pushes a hand in James’ hair, “Kiss me.”

James obeys with a groan, pushing his tongue in Henry’s mouth, kissing him and letting himself be kissed. It’s a wonder to behold.

Francis wants to suck James off, wants to put his mouth everywhere on him. He wants to push his tongue and fingers into him, together, along with his cock, along with _Henry's_ cock, he wants—

Henry makes him turn his face toward him so he can kiss him hard.

“Been waiting for so long,” he whispers on Francis’ lips, “For both of you.”

“Dundy,” James says softly, with a dazed little smile that makes Francis want to eat him up. 

Their soft, needy moans as they kiss, paired with their rocking rhythm, slow and steady, soon become too much, Francis feels drunk on them and when Henry envelops his and James’ pricks in his hand, he knows it’s just a matter of minutes, seconds, before he’ll finish. 

James groans and thrusts his hips into Henry’s hand, against Francis’ erection, “Feels so good—”

“You feel so good,” Francis pants, kissing James and then Henry, messily.

“You’re so bloody hot,” Henry breathes on his cheek, panting in time with his thrusts against Francis and the movements of his hand on them, “And your cock— I want to suck you so bad.”

Francis comes so hard that he has to stifle a cry against James’ neck, biting down without meaning to.

“Ye—s—” James begs, throwing his head back, thrusting in Henry’s hand, the head of his cock rubbing deliciously against Francis' belly in a final, desperate movement before spilling hard and hot, clutching at Henry’s shoulder.

Francis pets James’ hair through the aftershock as he slowly regains his breath. He brings his other hand behind himself, on Henry’s hip, pulling him closer with every thrust.

“Like that,” he encourages him, “Good boy.”

“Fuck—”

Henry hides his face in his hair with his last few thrusts and comes with a broken groan. He’s desperately holding onto Francis with a hand splayed across his chest. James has placed his own over it.

“Beautiful.” Francis whispers, kissing Henry's cheek as he slowly relaxes. He has his eyes closed and looks ready to doze off, right here with his face in Francis’ hair.

“My head spins,” James groans weakly, resting his forehead against Francis', “Orgasm too hard.”

Both Henry and Francis chuckles and kiss his damp hair, before sharing a kiss themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> \- look at jopson and ned having a fancy wedding somewhere in Europe (i was picturing something like Sardinia or Greece. _Mamma Mia!_ style)
> 
> \- [RT](https://twitter.com/downeymore/status/1371460763026612225?s=20) \+ [reblog](https://caravaggiosbrushes.tumblr.com/post/645730817363050496/the-taste-of-the-sea-caravaggiosbrushes-the)!
> 
> \- this is fiction, please don’t go swimming when you’re drunk! also maybe don’t have sex in public places, thanks!
> 
> \- every kudos and comment make James, Francis and Dundy sleep some more the next morning (they’re gonna need it) ;) ♥


End file.
